Timeline
by leave-it-al1
Summary: After Amy's death, life in Roarton slowly attempts to heal and return to normal, but things are brewing beneath a seemingly calm surface and some mysteries haven't been solved. The story continues.
1. 14-12-13

**Saturday, 14th of December**

"What do you think you are doing?! This is outrageous! For God's sake, have you no respect?!" A man in a thin raincoat shouted angrily and continued to stomp toward them. Nina and Oliver calmly looked up. They were carrying a black body bag to the trunk of their car. They gently lowered the body to the ground and Oliver began to sift through the items in the trunk. Nina let out a frustrated sigh. As if the pouring rain wasn't enough of a pain in the behind.

"Is this yours or mine?" she asked mildly irritated.

"I believe this one is mine. Keep him talking."

The angry man was now visible in the headlights of the car. Nina had walked out to meet him right beside the freshly exhumed grave in the bright lights.

"First, you drag these poor souls up to wreak terror on the living, only to not even guarantee their final re-?!"

"Oh, settle down! You should know from your Norfolk days that this is only the start."

"What do you mean 'start?' Are you trying to tell me that bringing back the dead wasn't enough?!"

"If you had stayed in the program you would've known to... wait," Nina smirked. The man looked horrified and curious, and took a moment to form any words. He spoke softly,

"What are you say-?"

His words were cut off by a loud clap of thunder. And a shot through the temple.

"Well isn't that lucky? Grave already prepared and everything," Oliver remarked dryly as he lowered the gun. With a swift push from the sole of his foot, the body rolled into the grave. Nina quickly walked to the rear of the car again and said,

"C'mon, let's get the subject in the trunk first," Nina said as she walked. Oliver rushed back to help her. After they hoisted the body bag into the trunk and shut it, they rushed back to their shovels to recover the grave. Between belaboured grunts, Oliver stated,

"That took up more time than we can afford. Need to refill this damn thing quickly. Then we bring Amy Dyer back to Norfolk."

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Hello!

This is my first story. I have stewed over the premature death of this wonderful show for nearly 2 years. So I pulled out the gunk and build-up in my brain, polished it up, and posted the junk here.

Enjoy it. Or not. Review it. Or not. It's just my take and I am always curious to know what people think.

Tips for cleaning up my writing also always appreciated.

Cheers,

LIA


	2. 07-02-14

**Friday, 7th of February**

Jem sat waiting in a uniform white plastic chair looking down at her boots. She visually traced the zigzags they made across her feet to the unlaced tops. It seemed appropriate that everything unraveled when it came into contact with her. The waiting room glowed with a sterile bluish-white light. Other patients chatted with family or friends they brought with them, but Jem focused on blocking out their noise. She listened carefully for the ticking clock over the voices of people. The time was irrelevant but the sound was soothing. Like heartbeats…

And just like that it wasn't soothing anymore. Looking up at the clock, Jem straightened out her school skirt and sat up straighter. The doctor was running late, as usual, but it was to be expected in a small town like Roarton. This psychiatrist's practice used to hardly get business, before the rising. Now though, business was relatively booming, but all Jem wanted was quiet to collect her thoughts before her appointment. It's been two visits a week for the past month, but things haven't progressed as well nor as quickly as she would've liked. From the corner of her eye, a boy slide forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He rested his chin on his fists, then turned his face toward Jem.

"Just take a deep breath, you're doing fine Jem. I know it feels like things are getting worse, but.… This stuff just takes some time, you know?" He looked up at her expectantly. It's a funny thing, guilt. Guilt was supposed to a black hole. A pit that pulled you in while simultaneously crushing you into nothing. What Jem found out was that it was more of a friendly conversation.

Jem fixed her eyes on the clock, willing the boy at her side disappear. Of course, he did not. It was a long two minutes before she heard,

"Ms. Walker? Ms…" the secretary looks down at the clipboard, "Jemima Walker? Doctor can see you now."

The boy watched Jem push herself out of the chair, grabbed her school bag, and walked up to the door leading to the offices.

"Good luck, Jem." Jem briefly looked back into the waiting room, but the boy who bid her luck was no longer sitting there. Why would he be? Henry Lonsdale had been dead for nearly two months. He lived in her head. Henry started talking to her a little while after she began therapy. Something from her sessions shook his silent ghoul into more of the friend she used to talk to in school. Or at least what she remembered about him. Jem turned to the room and walked in.

"So Jemima, did you bring anyone with you today?" Dr. Singh asked without looking up. Jem was sitting on a couch that wasn't quite exactly opposite from the doctor in an armchair. Jem quickly glanced from the doctor to Henry sat in the chair behind the desk. He gave a small sympathetic wave that only Jem could see, then went back to inspecting a beaded bracelet around the base of the desk lamp. She blinked and he disappeared. Jem moved her hand to cover the bracelet on the opposite wrist.

"Jem?" Dr. Singh was looking up when Jem looked back over to her.

"Uhm… no. Just me. Popped right on over after class." Jem focused on the doctor, and Henry and Lisa disappeared from view. Jem had a study hall at the end of the day which allowed her to walk the 57 minutes required to reach the office in the busiest part of town. Many adults were still at work and most other students still had class. The walk was lonely, but she liked it. Besides she had company, even if it _was_ only guilt wearing a face.

"Always the independent. And a great trait to have. but do you remember what we discussed last time? About letting people help?"

"Yeah, I do. I've been 'more receptive' to letting the fam 'assist me, even in minor times of need.' Ren helped me with some Literature work, just the other night."

"Did you ask for help or was he offering?"

"He… was offering," Jem admitted defeatedly. Then, she fiddled with a ring on her thumb and slumped back into the couch. Dr. Singh a gave a small yet reassuring laugh.

"Jem, I don't think you have to worry about any backsliding. The fact that you were… are willing to even just accept help demonstrates great progress. Even if it is just school work," Dr. Singh looked hopefully at Jem. She seemed like a young psychiatrist, but then again Roarton had never seen the likes of Dr. Singh until just after the Rising had settled down. And despite young or old, did they ever need the good old Doc.

Jem trusted her, wanted to spill her guts, admit to seeing Henry, admit to accidentally murdering him, and just cry, all the tears that had been building since… she couldn't even remember when. But she kept composed. She didn't want to risk being carted off to jail, or worse, an asylum. Even with doctor-patient confidentiality, it was a small town and people were bound to talk. Besides her family had only just started mending, really _truly_ getting back to a whole. Jem didn't want to jeopardize that. She couldn't. And even though she didn't tell Dr. Singh about her personal "ghost," Jem did get some headway dealing with the main parts of her problems thanks to the doc. Before, Henry was just a horrible memory played on repeat, silent and staring guilt into her consciousness. However, now he was more like a motivational coach. As dangerous as that could potentially be, Jem found his hallucinatory presence helpful, even necessary. At least for the time being.

"Now, I know we did a lot of cognitive therapy last few time, but let's keep going with it. We are really getting to the roots of your condition…"

And so Jem and the doctor went back and forth about fear and guilt and coping mechanisms. For the most part Jem completely focused on Dr. Singh today, which meant Henry would only occasionally flicker into her periphery from time to time. Despite Henry, today was a good session. She was slowly coming to grips that it wasn't her fault, she _had_ to do those things, back in the early days after The Rising. And blocking people and trying to deal with it all herself wouldn't make it any easier. As always, sharing was _vital_ to the healing process. And overall, these sessions were helping her get past her post-traumatic stress disorder. Especially when not-real-Henry was talking her through everything. It was all helping, wasn't it?

...

Recently, Kieren had a little trouble holding his pencil straight, so his sketches came out a bit more disorganized than he intended. Luckily most of it played into his style. Until today. He had been working on this drawing since he had woken up. It was almost early evening now. Kieren tossed aside his pencil in disgust and crossed his arms to rest his head on the table.

"Got artist's block, have we?" Steve Walker lightly asked after resting an encouraging hand on his son's shoulder. Kieren looked up at his dad, then Steve rounded the table to sit next to his son with a copy of the local paper. He started to flip pages to his spot.

"Something like that. I think I need to see my doctor," Kieren nonchalantly replied. Immediately Steve's entire posture stiffened as he slowly closed his book.

"An emergency? We can leave right now-"

"No, it's nothing extreme, just a slight case of tremors getting a bit out of hand. Most people taking Neurotryptilin experience it. According to… Shirley," Kieren replied. Dr. Tom Russo had been gone for nearly two months. He left suddenly immediately after Amy's death, leaving only a notice in the fax that the secretary got the next morning. Shirley was great, but seemed a bit out of grips with certain things. He missed Dr. Russo's sureness. And of course, PDS specialists were few and far in between, so another had yet to be sent to town.

Kieren could tell his father was comforted by the information, but not by much. Steve sat silently, almost in meditation, without looking at his son. Then he turned to Kieren and gave a brief smile.

"Even though this is concerning to me, thank you for telling me," Steve spoke as if he read from a manual. To be quite honest, it probably was. He paused a bit and asked,

"Is it something that Shirley could… could do a home visit for?"

"I'm not sure, and I'm sure it's nothing. But if you could help me get there," Kieren stopped because of the subtle growing concern on his father's face. Steve took a minute to answer his son.

"All right… Okay. All right, I'll drive you first thing tomorrow." Steve then got up and walked into the kitchen, leaving his son sitting at the table with an open sketchbook and the newspaper. Kieren realized his father can be strong at time, but for the most part, he was still quite fragile. Kieren also realized that he played a big part in breaking his own dad. So, since Christmas, they'd worked on speaking more, sharing more. And sometimes Kieren would share too much and his father would take a minute to unfreeze. The tremors weren't what scared Steve Walker. It was what the tremors could mean. He really didn't want to stare into his son's dead lifeless eyes again, neither the ones devoid of light nor the ones devoid of humanity.

Kieren heard his dad start the kettle and he checked his watch. Then, he walked out the door. Time for a walk.

...

The bridge became their meeting spot after the first week. Jem had told Kieren that walking all the way to the office and back was "just plain stupid," so they agreed on the bridge, especially with this his slight limp. It was just far enough so that Jem didn't have to walk home alone in the early darkness that accompanied winter. Kieren noticed Jem looking down, whispering quietly to herself as she walked up.

"Hey sis, how was the hour?" Kieren knew she hated hearing the word "appointment" or even "doctor," so he resolved to call something else. She looked up and smiled.

"It was fine, you know, same old. But that shit's boring and I am so done talking about it. What's happening with you? Finish your gift for Simon?"

"Nope, still working on it. Thanks for putting that over my head. It's, uh, going."

"Going well? Like you and Siiimon," Jem sing-songingly teased and giggled.

"Stop that you knob." Kieren blushed through laughter but was actually glad to see her light-hearted. How could he really tell? She didn't fiddle with her thumb ring. About a little more than a month prior Kieren had noticed one morning that Jem had scratched the side of her thumb raw and bleeding. When he had asked her, she had said it was nothing and carried on. So, of all people, Simon gifted her a ring with a wide band. So that she could continuously pull a trigger to a gun that wasn't there. At least while she was awake. She needed something that protected her reality from the thing that protected her dreams. This pulled the strings that tied Kieren to Simon together tighter. Kieren must have paused too long because Jem inquired,

"So he's the real deal, ain't he? Kier?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I really like him for sure. And he goes into everything with such an intensity, I can't deny it isn't at least a bit-damn wish I had a better word-alluring. Hell, he saved my life didn't he? Has to show he cares a little. But. I feel something pulling me back and not trusting him."

"What'd'you mean? Like he's stepping out on you or something?"

"No, not that… just… I dunno. It feels like he is guilty around me. And, to be quite honest, I still don't really know the guy. I can't give more into something I can't even see."

"Kier, you don't have to know them from primary school in order to consider them worthy of affection. Besides he is way sweeter on you than Rick was. And not shy about showing it either. You even told me that, remember?"

Kieren sighed. "Maybe I just subconsciously like to self-sabotage."

"Can't let you do that, bro. Besides I got that base already covered in our family," Jem joked. She shined a wide grin at Kieren. He responded with a small brief smile. Kieren paused from walking and the conversation for a second. Then asked,

"Take it Doc Singh still doesn't know about Henry?"

 _Smart bloke, your bro. Knew I always liked him_ , Jem heard Henry say from behind her, or in the back of her mind, it was hard to tell. She ignored him.

"Nah, it isn't bad, if anything, he kinda helps me cope, sort of."

Kieren couldn't be sure if it rang true, but if it did to Jem, he had to trust that'd be enough. She seemed to be getting better. The towel damp with perspiration from night terrors no longer hung to dry in the bathroom. And Jem seemed happier. Until the day that that changed for the worse, Kieren kept Henry's spectre a secret.

"Sounds... good," Kieren responded while nodding his head, trying to reassure himself. "So, how's school?" Kieren sighed at his choice of such a bland conversation topic.

"Well isn't that just a proper boring topic bro," Jen laughed exactly reciprocating his thoughts.

"I realize now, but I am genuinely curious, and I wasn't stupid in school. I can help, especially with your A-levels coming."

"Remembered and recognized Mr. Smartypants, and don't worry, I expect you to be my personal 24/7 tutor as it comes closer. You'll start wishing they brought back that 'Give Back' scheme 'round these parts," Jem grinned. Kieren had to laugh at that. Soon after the events last December, the scheme stopped largely in thanks to Philip's presence on the parish council.

"So, back on topic, are you gonna take your shady lover boy on a whirlwind globe trekking adventure when Valentine's day arrives? Lord knows you've not been on a trip for a while."

"Nah, couldn't swing that at all. Just because the council finally deemed it stupid, doesn't mean the rest of bloody Europe agrees. Looks like I'm stuck in Roarton for the good ol' feast of Saint Val," Kieren sighed. He wasn't upset since it wasn't his plan anyway. They were getting close to home while all that was left of the sun was the last few rays keeping the darkness barely at bay.

"Agh you'll be fine. You're a romantic artistic sod. You'll think of something." Then Jem started speeding up her pace a bit. She still wasn't to fond of what she might see in the dark, and the winter sun was setting fast. Kieren tried to catch up, his minute limp holding him back a bit. But he wasn't catching up. It almost felt like he was getting winded, despite not needing breath. Kieren started to feel an earthquake. When he saw Jem calmly continuing forward, a deeper dread and panic filled him. He tried to blink to get his sight readjusted, but the shaking wouldn't stop. Blink. Jem was farther and sounded like she was calling back to him, "Come on, slowpo-." Blink. He saw only what his rolling eyes let him see. They were passing by some Roarton bungalows. Blink. Kieren focused on Jem, but she seemed taller, somehow. Blink. Kieren didn't open up his eyes this time. But he could hear,

"Holy shit! Kieren!" Footsteps rapidly approaching. "Somebody please! Hel-"

Then he heard nothing.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

I promise the bigger plot points are yet to come.

Cheers,

LIA


	3. 08-02-14

**Saturday, 8th of February**

Philip guessed it must've been a little after midnight as he walked in the dark. He was bundled against the cold while the rest of Roarton slept warm in their beds with their loved ones. Laughter drew his attention and he turned his head. _Almost_ everyone else in Roarton was asleep. It was a small group of kids braving the cold with some ciders. They seemed so tiny from where he was. The group quickly moved by some houses then rounded a corner. All that was left was the trail of steam left by their breath. Then even that disappeared. Philip turned back to watch where he was going. Just a bit more now.

He had been walking along the perimeter fence for a good few hours now, and for the past two months. He had taken it upon himself to personally attend the fence, looking for imperfections and fixing them as well as he could with the toolbelt hanging from his hips. From the belt also hung a cattle prod, but that was only for the worst scenarios. It would probably never get used. Dying didn't scare him anymore. So, he gave himself this job, and that was walking the length of the fence that ran along the edge of the forest and town. This way, he could protect as many people as possible. No one else would die on his watch.

Philip had a lot of time to reflect on these solo ventures. Thinking about the past and what he had done. Despite all of his past misguided efforts, he really did try to do well by the town, but he was still just so wrong for such a long time. It was hard to change people's minds after what had happened. He understood that now, hell, it took him just as long. He finally learned to accept that "the whole town" also included PDS sufferers. Sometimes it felt a little too late. He also learned that there are those that still don't quite feel the same, especially those that wanted to volunteer to patrol the fence. They would come with guns in their hands and bitterness in their hearts. Not that these hypothetical patrollers would've needed guns. Philip had not seen any roamers since he had started. However, he still denied their help. It was his private penance.

He reached the end of fence and continued on a bit farther. He now started following the path laid by Beating the Bounds. An ancient tradition paraded into modern day. Though modern circumstances allowed for some modifications that only drove a wedge deeper into the town's divide, namely The Rising. But even that present became part of history. Things have changed a lot and much faster than this sleepy conservative town ever would've allowed for in the past.

The cold impeded his trek by a little, but Philip eventually reached his destination. He pushed open the gate and walked in. He walked off the path to travel behind the gravestones today. For nearly two months, his footprints had created a trail in the dead grass and clearly marked his destination. He walked up and rested his hand on the cold headstone.

"Hello Amy." Most days he didn't have anything more to say to her, he just wanted to be close. Sometimes he said he was sorry, especially for all of the time he wasted being a spineless idiot. Other days, he would give her summaries if there were particularly interesting events. Though it seemed like nothing interesting since she had been gone. Seldomly, he would cry, not loud, but hard enough to make his shoulders shake, and never for long. He had learned to hold back emotions far too well and far too long for him indulge more than a minute.

For the first visit, he was frantic. The day after her service, Philip came back to the site. He immediately noticed the tiger toy was gone. The hard rain made it look like her grave had been disturbed. His heart leapt with hope as he frantically searched for her, wondering where she was wandering around. He searched well into the night before Kieren found him and stopped him. Hope blinded him from seeing that the grave was still mostly undisturbed. As for the tiger, an animal had to have carried it off. Or a child. The realization shattered him. After Kieren and Simon steered him home and a week of quiet mourning, Philip rebuilt the pieces, as he'd seen his mum do after his father left for the last time. He threw himself into parish council work, working particularly hard to completely remove the remnants of the "give back" scheme. Those that would've opposed just got a look from him. He inadvertently mastered a terrifying stare that made people wither beneath it. The stare of a man that had nothing but his mission to do right by a loved one's memory. The decision was unanimous, PDS sufferers were not to be treated as second class citizens. They were too small of a town for the government to really check in on anyway.

It was getting late. Philip waited a few more minutes then removed his hand and looked up to the direction of home. He wasn't sure what possessed him to walk left around the gravesite, rather than the beaten bath on the right. Maybe the cold gave him delusions of the other side was actually the shorter route home. So he walked left. Maybe it was luck that people didn't walk around these parts so much, perhaps for fear of a possibly not-so-dead occupant, so things were largely undisturbed. And maybe it was also luck that this one small bit of metal didn't fall into a hole as it was filled in. The person that left it there was too rushed to remember to pick it up. It had to have been simple dumb luck that Philip felt it under his shoe and picked it up. A bullet shell dully reflected the moonlight as he held it up. _It means nothing_ , Philip thought to himself as his breath quickened and he pocketed it anyway. _It means nothing. It doesn't mean anything. Just a hunter passing by from the woods, probably…. It. Means. NOTHING!_ Philip walked at measured and rapid pace, trying to put distance between himself and the questioning thoughts that would eventually catch up with him.

…

He didn't feel pain, but Kieren imagined this is was what getting knocked out by a sledgehammer would be like. While his eyes were closed, he heard Simon shuffle things around in the bungalow. Kieren heard Simon exit and re-enter the room twice in less than two minutes. Kieren slowly moved on the sofa to show his awakened state and slowly raised heavy eyelids.

"Kieren," Simon said with a relieved exhale. He rushed to the floor beside the sofa.

"How are you feeling? Can you see okay? Any pain, or the semblance?"

"I'm fine, you don't need to fuss…." Kieren stiffly sat up and eventually managed to look Simon square in the face. He was clearly holding back how distraught he was. His hair fell just a bit over onto his forehead, instead of it being neatly combed and in place. Kieren couldn't help but smile and reached his hand up to push back Simon's hair. _Not shaking, suppose that's a good sign._

"I was worried." Simon sounded heartbreakingly concerned. Kieren pulled Simon's face to his own. Sensations felt numb and dulled as PDS, but when Simon's lips pressed against his, he could've sworn felt like it used to be. Kieren pulled away after a few seconds. Simon's furrowed brow was smoother now.

"I know," Kieren responded softly, then he remembered something and looked around.

"Where's Jem? She still here?" _How can you not remember your own sister._

"Yeah. She's asleep on the bed. And don't worry she phoned your parents after your fit had calmed down. She somehow managed to convince them they didn't need you airlifted to Norfolk by the Royal Army. And that was just from saying you were 'fatigued' and needed a rest before going home." Simon smiled a little and Kieren followed suit. Kieren sat up and pulled Simon onto the sofa. Or rather guided onto the seat by pulling his arm, Simon was a rather broad-shouldered man. Simon sat skewed sideways by the corner so that Kieren could rest his head on Simon's chest. Simon slowly lowered his arm to rest over Kier, holding him a bit tighter than if he weren't worried.

"So are you gonna tell your folks what really happened?"

"Of course, as soon as I get home. And after they first see that there is nothing actually wrong with me."

"You are really lucky you fell so close to this bungalow Kieren Walker."

"Yes, quite lucky I collapsed" Kieren joked. "Perhaps you are a bad omen meant to bring about my ruin." Kieren chuckled but Simon said nothing. He just pressed his face into the back of Kieren's head

"Hey, I was only kidding," Kieren replied softly. When Simon didn't respond after a few more moments, he turned to face him. Simon's eyes dropped below Kieren's and he closed his eyes. Kieren was confused but also becoming annoyed at the silent treatment. _This is exactly what I meant. What the hell is he holding back?_ As gently as he could muster Kieren said as he stood up,

"I should get Jem and head out. Pretty sure Mum and Dad are probably still up waiting for us." His voice still carried bite. Simon looked up at Kieren. His face read _No wait. Let me explain. Please stay._ What he said,

"Probably for the best." Then he furrowed his brow and his lips pursed just the smallest amount. Simon was deeply conflicted, but Kieren didn't care just then. His own life was unravelling at the seams, and Simon was proving less and less to be the support he needed.

But he still wanted Simon to say something, so Kieren lingered by a doorframe longer than he wanted, despite his annoyance. But in the end he walked to the bedroom and gently shook Jem awake. She stretched a bit and sprang up, though she wobbled a bit still drunk off of sleep. Half asleep with her eyes more shut than open, she clung onto Kieren's arm as he escorted themselves outside. He didn't say goodbye to Simon.

The walk was peaceful but cold. Kieren largely felt nothing, but he could feel Jem vibrate from her chattering teeth. He picked up the pace and luckily the walk wasn't that far. Every step away from the bungalow left him more frustrated and afraid.

…

"All right, could you tilt your head forward a bit more dear?"

"Sure." Frankie dipped her head forward. She winced at the pinching around the back of her neck. It wasn't that painful, but the long unfamiliar sensation was almost unbearable.

"Now Frankie, how long you say it's been since your neurotryptilin's started causing pain?" Shirley gently patted around the injection site. There was no inflammation to suggest an infection, if someone with PDS could even get infections.

"About a week, and it only just recently been giving me a twinge."

"I see…."

Shirley was doing her best to try and diagnose the poor girl, but what did she know? He was the highest authority on PDS in Roarton, but now that title passed to Shirley. Dr. Russo has been gone for months. He simply disappeared and rudely resigned by fax, _the nerve of that man_ , thought Shirley vehemently, he didn't even have the decency to clear out his things. He quite adamantly stated that he it was an emergency call away, and a replacement was on their way. That left Shirley, taking up the brunt of the work that many other nurses and doctors turned away from. As a result, she hadn't the time to go in for additional training to deal with whatever this new symptom was. It honestly worried Shirley, hell it completely frightened her. _Is this the development of an immunity to the medication?_ Shirley decided to send in some of Frankie's bloodwork to Norfolk. She only needed a quick glance at Frankie's silently distraught face to know what to say,

"You'll be fine dear, results'll be back within a week and we'll know exactly how to fix you up," then she lied with smile, "honestly nothing to worry about."

Frankie visibly relaxed a bit and even mustered a quick smile as she waved goodbye to Shirley on her way out. Once the door shut, Shirley sat down and slumped back in her chair. After pressing palms to eyelids for a good while, she checked the clock. Past closing, no doubt the others had left her to close up. Shirley did a quick look over the clinic, bid the caged untreated goodnight, and locked the door.

The cold night pushed her to a faster pace and she got home in no time. The lights were out so Shirley entered as quietly as she could. As she passed by his room, her heart swelled a bit with pride. Through the slightly cracked door she could see Philip fast asleep. So tired, he hadn't even changed into pyjamas. He had been working so hard to make Roarton better after losing Amy. Shirley wiped back a rogue tear. Philip made her so proud, and yet she was so sad for him. She didn't let the thought linger any longer and she strolled off to her nightly routine.

In Philip's room, he lay awake facing away from the door. On his pillow laid a bullet shell. He silently made plans at it. He needed to unearth the truth.


End file.
